Tim Case checks back in:
The scene in front of Tim and Fifis Hotel?
Click for a full size pic
Compliments www.streetsofatlanta.com
Installment Five: Days 5 and 6 – The Lost Weekend
[Hey, Mike…I just wanted to shout out to a few of the many people that are evidently following this online journal. Hello, Dave Cummings, we love your work. Hello, Jamie Batista, you rocking Playboy dude, you. And Harry Weiss…what can we say? You know my girlfriend is hot for your bod. You’re the best. Well, you’re a close second to Steve Seidman, anyway. Jesus, I’ve been in LA too long. I’m starting to schmooze. Next thing you know I’ll be blowing kisses at people I dislike from across the room. Who loves ya, baby?]
Gee what’s that big sucking noise I hear coming from out west…could it be….
On a beautiful Saturday, June 29, 2002, Felicia Fox finally got her DAY OFF. No work. No cocks to suck, no lube to apply. She headed for the pool after sleeping in — it was around noon, something like that. I headed down to the Wal-Mart to pick her up an inflatable raft. (And no, Goddess, I was not able to use my employee discount).
Blew up the neon green raft, then collapsed, out of breath and gasping in the California sun. I am so ridiculously out of shape. I left Felicia to float around by the pool in her thong, which attracted alot of undue attention from the semi-permanent residents of the Motel 6. I’m sure the pimps entertained thoughts of “turning her out”…fat chance, there, boys. I drove down the Hollywood Freeway so that I could pick up Kylie Kurves and take her to A.I.M. for her test. She has a girl/girl scene to shoot Monday in North Carolina, evidently, and no rental car to get her to the Valley, so I volunteered. Jesus, what a hot chick. Youd’ve volunteered, too.
Ya you ain’t kidding she is hot. You know I’m on it!
Point your ears west and you’ll hear me saying “Hallllooooooooooooo?” And who the hell shoots in NORTH CAROLINA, anyway?)
Nobody of significance that I know of.
Got Kylie to AIM. The libidinous Steve Austin from World Modeling walks out as we’re walking in, and his jaw hits the floor when he sees us. I know what he’s thinking — “How does TimCase, a former president of the Chess Club — Fairborn High School, Class of ’83 — manage to hang out with so many HOT CHICKS?”). We headed back to the motel. She changed into HER thong, and now the Roscoe crowd is REALLY fired up at the stroke-inducing sight of Kylie and Felicia laying out by the pool. Of course, they had to rub a little lotion on each other, inciting multi-racial erections all over the place, I’m sure. Mine included.
I know why bruddah, cuz you got GOOD bait!
No, my erection isn’t multi-racial, but you know what i mean.
John Finberg, rock and roll guy that he is, shows up and we all head over to Melrose Avenue in the rental car so the ladies can shop. In this, Mecca to all shoppers, the world-famous Melrose Avenue of Los Angeles, Felicia Fox buys three items and spends a grand total of $35.72. God, I love that woman.
Don’t we all. Fifi Rules!
Ate a quick dinner at Johnny Rockets, where we bump into Robby D., formerly of Vivid Video and now with Digital Playground. Hugs all around. Robby’s great, and has always treated Felicia with such respect that I have no choice but to adore his bald ass. Kylie is then deposited back at her hotel, Finberg being unsuccessful in his repeated attempts to talk her into relocating to LA. He claims that she is “The One.” Over the course of five days in LA, I’ve heard John refer to 37 different women as “The One”.
Home for a quick shower, then it’s off to the Rainbow Room. Now Felicia, being a porn actress, is enamored with all famous, once-famous, and never-will-be-famous rock musicians. Finberg knows this, and is continually trying to use his contacts in the music biz to impress her into giving him a “hummer”. To date, it hasn’t worked. He teases her with Dave Navarro’s cell phone number relentlessly, and promises her dates with Trent Reznor.
Will it be a triple date Reznor, Jonathon Davis and Gene Simmons…three washed up rockers and hot porn chick…
The Rainbow Room on the Sunset Strip on a Saturday night is a curious collection of tragedy and heartbreak. John had a table reserved for 11pm, and we arrived on time. We are immediately immersed in a curious LA subculture, the Waning Days of the Hair Bands. Musicians everywhere, all with faces you almost — but not quite — recognize from the early days of MTV. “Hey wasn’t that the bass player for Warrant?” “Magnum? Sure, I remember you guys. Didn’t you open up for Ozzy on the “Diary of a Madman” tour, back in ’81?” “Good lord — look, Felicia! It’s Kevin Dubrow from Quiet Riot! And his hairpiece!”
Damn is that Rainbow Room THE hangout for out of work musicians…Kinda like when Mexicans congregate on a street corner as day labor?
Jesus, how pathetic. And what’s even more pathetic than me recognizing half of these mousse-abused assholes is that they all dress exactly the same as they did back in 1986…black leather and spandex are de riguer, only now the outfits have all been let out just a tad, to accomodate the spreading guts and asses of the musicians (and their wives, former groupies all, right down to the big hair and gaudy makeup).
That’s a perfect paragraph, on a par with Hunter Thompson’s best!
Of course, I spend my days and nights hanging out with Dirty Bob, so who am I to criticize?
And don’t forget Mike South
Felicia is happy after getting to meet the Armenian bass player for System of a Down; the bass player for one-hit-wonders Crazytown; David Draiman, the lead singer from Disturbed; and the guy who will be playing keyboards on Billy Idol’s upcoming tour. Billy Idol? I’m happy staring at the copious amounts of exposed female flesh from the wanna-be groupies that congregate at
the Rainbow Room. You’d think I’d get tired of staring at quivering female flesh after living on porn sets for the past two years. You’d be wrong. My happiness dims somewhat when I get the check — $62.40 for three beers, a shrimp cocktail and a chinese chicken salad. Jesus christ, how does anyone afford to live out here?
hey to see that many strippers in one place anywhere else woulda cost a couple of hundred bucks, consider it a bargain. So let me see if I get this right the musicians kinda hang here like day laborers and the porn chicks and strippers come here to find a boyfriend. A clean cut guy with no drug habit and and good job doesn’t have a chance to land any of the chicks here I’m guessing. I will take my chances at the Grocery Store or the local Bennigans
We head home, and to bed at 2 or so. No sex for me again, tonight — Felicia is saving herself for Harry Weiss. Dammit.
Ya now that Harry is unemployed his stock will go up for getting dates with peelers (strippers) and pornchicks…sorry Harry…I had to.
Sunday was uneventful. Another day off. A little shopping, a little more poolside action, and several calls from the sexy, newly-augmented Claudine at Jill Kelly Productions. Felicia, is seems, is in demand at JKP thanks to Claudine and our good friend Robert.
Don’t accept a check!
She has a scene with Billy Glide to shoot on the 17th, a girl/girl scene on the 6th, a boy/girl with Randy Spears on Tuesday the 2nd, and a boy/boy/girl (her first BBG ever for the West coast)
But me and YOU got her First ever. See it here and at Felicias website
tomorrow with Eric Everhard and Chris Evans for JKP’s “Young Fun”. Oh, and of course her feature show starts on Wednesday at LA’s “Playpen” strip club.
Wenesday afternoon Jim Lane still wants to shoot her. Friday afternoon John Dragon still wants to shoot her. Good god, it’s going to be a tough week for her. More tomorrow.
Take it easy, Mike.
At my age I take it anyway I can get it…..Hell taking it may be the only way I will get it! Thans again Tim you rule bruddah!
